


Of Synergy

by Try2CatchMe



Series: Sanctuary 'verse [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 17:42:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Try2CatchMe/pseuds/Try2CatchMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"In the quiet, it wasn't hard for him to stay safe inside his head. It was like the whole world was open and he couldn't be trapped by something as intangible as a memory."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Synergy

**Author's Note:**

> I believe someone requested cuddles?

Adam woke up slowly, like you do on the first day of summer, finally able to relax after weeks of stress and completely unwilling to move ever again.

It helped that he was so warm. Honestly, it didn't make sense that he was so warm, he hadn't bothered to grab a blanket before face-planting on the couch and he was pretty sure he'd left the fan on.

But now he thought of it, the air wasn't to thank for the warmth. The angel wrapped around him like an octopus was.

Well, if he wasn't awake before, he certainly was _now_.

Awake and very, _very_ aware of all the places he and Samandriel were touching. The angel was plastered against his back, one arm around his waist, the other coming around his chest, head tucked against Adam's. Their legs were hopelessly tangled together and as Adam lay there quietly panicking, Samandriel made that stupid whistling noise again and subconsciously _burrowed into his neck_.

Oh God, was this some kind of punishment? He would have thought six hundred years plus in the Pit would take care of any past or future infractions, but _clearly_ he was mistaken.

Also, he had to get up. Comfortable or not, he couldn't just lie there being aggressively spooned for the entire day. Plus, he had to pee. Like, a _lot_. All that water had to go somewhere.

At first, he tried to slip away gently, quickly discovering that not only did Samandriel have one hell of a grip, he was also absolutely dead to the world. It wasn't long before Adam was just peeling the angel's limbs away from him one by one and rolling onto the floor in his haste to escape.

For a few seconds he just lay there, running through a list of the things he'd done since getting dragged back to life that could _possibly_ justify the current situation. He was tacking 'locking Garth in the bathroom for twelve hours' onto the list when Samandriel's arm flopped off the couch, grasped blindly around, and he had to roll out of range before getting dragged back into a (admittedly enjoyable) stranglehold.

He forced himself onto his feet so he wouldn't just lay on the carpet and contemplate his life for the whole morning. Given how screwed up his life actually was, he might actually lay there for the rest of the week if he gave himself the opportunity.

So he got up and didn't let himself think. He went to the bathroom, then walked into the kitchen, rummaged around in his newly cleaned and restocked fridge, emerged with milk and eggs, and grabbed some pancake mix from a cupboard. He could have eaten the leftover French toast from yesterday, and he did really like cold French toast, but he needed to do something with his hands right now.

It was therapeutic, just doing something monotonous in the near-silent house. He let himself zone out as he put the ingredients together and poured them into the waffle iron he'd retrieved from the cabinets.

In the quiet, it wasn't hard for him to stay safe inside his head. It was like the whole world was open and he couldn't be trapped by something as intangible as a memory.

Adam just wanted Samandriel to be able to share the quiet mornings with him. He stood in the kitchen and accepted the unlikelihood of this feeling going away when it just seemed to grow steadily as the seconds crawled by. Truth be told, he wasn't sure he wanted it to leave. It was the warmth that filled him up whenever he was left cold and empty by a flashback. He _liked_ it.

He smiled as he spread a truly ungodly amount of peanut butter on his waffles. Things might just be okay.

After the success of breakfast, Adam realized that he was effectively stuck in the house for the day. He wasn't going to risk leaving Samandriel alone anymore than he'd risk going somewhere by himself, having a flashback, and falling into a coma or dying or whatever would happen if the angel wasn't there to pull him back.

The first thing he did was go into his room, turn down the covers, and then go back into the living room to get Samandriel. The angel was by no means light, but it wasn't too hard to carry him the short distance to Adam's room. If Samandriel was going to be out for a long time, he might as well have a proper bed.

Next, Adam went through the garage and re-organized it because Sam and Dean had just put things in random places with no semblance of order whatsoever. He made a point to stash a label maker in the trunk of the Impala next time they came over just to screw with them. Oh, no, better idea- organize and label all the weapons. _That_ would piss Dean off. _Yes_.

After the garage was his room because he seriously doubted Samandriel would have trouble sleeping through it. A healthy coating of dust covered everything, so he spent a good hour just clearing away that. Then he washed all his clothes, throwing away the ones that moths had eaten holes in.

Once his DVDs, games, and books were alphabetized, he flopped down on the couch, rubbing at his eyes to try to force away the headache that was trying to make itself known.

He woke up before he knew he'd drifted off. The house was dark, but there was a faint light coming from the kitchen.

A faint light and a rustling sound.

Adam was fairly sure Samandriel shouldn't be up and around yet, so he was very quiet as he got to his feet and moved to peer into the kitchen, trying to gauge whether or not he needed to grab the shotgun from the hall closet.

He frowned at what he saw.

It _looked_ like Samandriel, and a glance at the open door to his room more or less confirmed it, but the angel didn't usually eat without prompting and this person was rummaging around in the fridge, presumably for something to put on the pieces of toast on the plate on the counter.

Not to mention the body language was all wrong, Samandriel moved deliberately, like he had to consciously control the contractions of every single muscle, or was at least aware of them. This person was loose and familiar inside his skin, moving around smoothly and easily.

That was what made Adam step forward and clear his throat.

Instantly, the person whipped around, holding a jar of jam like a thief caught in the act, eyes startled, body language defensive. That pretty much confirmed it.

"Alfie?"


End file.
